“You know you can tell me anything, Héctor,” she said. She wasn’t assembling tamales anymore.

“Yo sé eso,” he answered.

Then her hand was on his, stopping him from making one more tamale.

“Anything,” she said.

He sighed and put the husk down. Her words rang in his head: time. That’s what he needed. But what had Abuela actually done? Did she just wait around?

“How did you figure out where you belonged, Abuela?”

She was silent for a moment. She placed a finished tamale in the pot, then fixed Héctor with her gaze.

“I had to take some risks,” she said. “In order to make friends. And it was very, very uncomfortable sometimes. But you also don’t know who might be able to be your friend unless you try.”

He thought of the Table of Misfits. He had made some progress in the last couple weeks, but then things had gotten super awkward again because of Mike. Maybe Carmen had only run off because she didn’t want to talk about that.

Or maybe Héctor needed to stop hoping friendships would just happen.

Abuela Sonia smiled again. She opened her mouth as if to say more. But then she waved it away. “Vámonos,” she said. “We got so many more of these to make.”

Hours later, Héctor did not feel that he had improved his tamale-making technique. “These all look sick,” he said, defeated. “Seriously, can we call 911 on my tamales? They need a doctor.”

“Don’t be so critical of yourself, nieto,” said Abuela. “I know you can’t see your progress, but you’re getting better. And you’ll keep getting better if you practice.”

He sighed dramatically. “I just thought maybe I’d be so good at this that it could be my thing here in Orangevale.”

“Maybe you need a hobby,” she suggested, fixing one of Héctor’s sad tamales. “We can revisit your tamale empire as you get better!”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “But what kind of hobby could I start?”

She stood up and squeezed his shoulder. “That’s for you to decide, nieto. You’ve got to do these things for yourself.”

Right, he told himself. Do it alone. Don’t rely on other people. That was exactly what he’d thought! And now he was much more certain about it. Do it yourself.

It seemed like solid advice. Yet why did it all feel so difficult?

Chapter Fourteen

Mami had the morning off from teaching, so she drove him to school on Monday. It wasn’t a long drive, but he liked to pump himself up with some good music in the morning. However, halfway to school, she turned down his playlist.

“¿Qué pasó, Mami? What you do that for? I was just getting in the groove!”

She smiled. “I have some questions.”

“Oh no,” he said, grinning. “I didn’t do anything. It was Papi.”